NGE oneshots
by Fanf1cFan
Summary: Bits of life from the NGE world. One-shots, unless I can find a reason to link them together in a story. The newest upload happens to be in the #1 spot. I just thought they should be in that order.
1. Dealing With Asuka

After yet another morning of putting up with his roommate's complaints and demands, the Third Child was nearing his wits' end. Since she was now giving him the 'silent treatment', her other mode, as they trudged to school, he had time to stew over her frequent foul moods. Finally, he just decided to ask . . . "What's the deal, Asuka? Why are you always on my case? What did I ever do to you?"

"Quit whining, Third. It drives me up a wall."

"Sorry."

Not surprisingly, Shinji's automatic apology caused her to clench her teeth and growl with quiet menace. He dropped back a couple of steps to give her some distance.

_I'm getting tired of being her target of convenience._ It seemed that he was singled out even more than everyone else Asuka chose to harass. _I probably won't get anything out of her, but if I could just find out why she's like that most of the time, maybe I can figure out how to get her to ease off._

It's possible he'd arrived at a certain level of apathetic fatalism or maybe it was his lack of skill at reading people, but he persisted. "Come on, Asuka, that's not an answer."

Asuka turned on her heel and stopped abruptly right in his path, giving him her 'Glare of Death'. It was all he could do to keep from running right into her. As it was, they ended up nearly nose to nose.

"You lack a spine, you whine any time things aren't just peachy for you, and you ask stupid questions! . . . Oh, and you keep saying 'sorry' as if it's a conditioned response!"

Without waiting for an answer, she pivoted and resumed her march toward school, arms held stiff at her sides, fists clenched and white-knuckled.

Funny, the small incidental things some people notice during a near-death experience. _Those eyes . . . intense, complex . . . not just blue, but all sorts of blue. _He lacked the vocabulary of a poet, otherwise he might have added_ '. . . from dark and deep as a summer's night sky to pale as a cool morning's mist . . . clear and sparkling and . . . dangerous._ The feeling was there at any rate.

It was a minute or two before the effects wore off enough that Shinji rejoined the land of the living and realized he'd be late if he didn't pick up the pace.

~-~-~

The Class Rep had a philosophy that could be expressed as "Early is on-time, on-time is late, and late will get you clean-up duty after school." So Shinji's hurried arrival just before the first bell earned him his second glare of the day, but spared him a session with the broom and mop-bucket.

A moment later Horaki-inchou barked "Stand!" as she noticed the approach of the Sensei. The usual morning chatter among the students cut off abruptly and they stood next to their desks, such was her command presence.

"Bow!"

The Sensei moved from the doorway to his desk, the visible respect of his students giving him little satisfaction. The coffee maker in the teacher's lunch room was broken, denying him his usual dose of morning elixir. He nodded to Class Rep and she completed the familiar little ritual. "Sit!"

The students' rumps hit their seats as one.

Hikari Horaki allowed herself a private grin. _-That's- the way I like it!_

The remainder of the school day for Shinji was a mix of half-hearted attention to studies and between-lessons pondering of the difficulties of dealing with Asuka.

~-~-~

"I'm home."

"Welcome home, Shinji-kun. Where's Asuka?"

"She said to remind you she was going over to Hikari's house after school to study, Misato."

"Oh, yeah." Misato waved her free hand in casual dismissal of the subject and idly watched him quietly get out his books and begin his homework.

It wasn't a matter that he bothered to remark on anymore, but the can-count told him that she was into her third after-work beer. That probably meant that her afternoon entertainment was about to get underway . . . the teasing of one Shinji Ikari. _'Yep, she has that smirk. I'm doomed.'_

"Shinji-kun, when are you going to bring home some of your girlfriends so I can start meeting them?" The sing-song tone she used made him cringe a little.

His monotone response, "There aren't any, Misato." and uninterrupted note scribbling didn't deter her in the least.

"Oh, come now. Do you mean to tell me you've never answered even _one_ of the love confessions your female classmates stuff into your locker every day? You shouldn't play so hard to get." She was gratified to see the increasing redness of the boy's ears.

More scribbling and a long-suffering sigh from Shinji. He didn't look up.

"Such a boring boy."

"Sorry."

Misato regarded him as she finished the last few swallows and set the can next to its brothers.

Her tone lost some of its teasing quality. "You're more mopey than usual, I think. What's the problem? Asuka get tired of waiting for you to pay her some attention? She find herself another boyfriend?"

He put down his pencil and slowly looked up to meet his guardian's amused gaze. Surprisingly enough he thought he saw a little care and compassion in there. "No idea. She doesn't keep me up to date on her love life." He paused. "I have no idea what girls want, but as Asuka would be quick to point out, it's not me. Do you have any other embarrassing questions you'd like to ask?"

"OK, give. What's got your boxers in a bunch?"

It amazed him that Misato could just shake off three beers and appear sober at a moment's notice. He shrugged and decided he hadn't any more dignity to loose anyway.

"Girlfriends are not the problem. I repeat . . . I don't have any and don't expect to anytime soon."

Misato gave him her patented one-thousand watt smile. "Well, -that's- your problem then. You need to get out more and have fun. A nice girlfriend would help with that, you know."

"Are you finished, or don't you want to hear what I have to say?" He tried to give her the 'Ikari Glare', but fell short probably due partly to his youth and partly to the fact that he was somewhat lacking in the ice cold soulless bastard department as well.

She made the 'zipping my lips' gesture and tried to look attentive.

"It's just that Asuka's always acting like my existence offends her, or that I should have thought to offer whatever it is she's demanding at the moment. Of course I'm 'just a stupid little boy so it's all understandable'. You've heard her. I can put up with a lot; I had plenty of practice before I came to Tokyo 3. But she just never lets up and it's wearing on me. I thought if I knew what made her that way, I might stand a chance at knowing what to do or what not to do. You knew her before she came here, didn't you? Is there any way you can help me?"

His dejected and near hopeless expression was so melodramatic that Misato almost giggled. But realizing that it would only make him feel worse, she suppressed the impulse and decided to do what she could in the advice department.

"Shinji, I can't tell you everything I know about her. That's because some of what I do know is personal information . . . private. When and if she wants you to know, she'll tell you. But mostly, I think I need to try to get you to understand a few things.

"First, despite what you may think, you have a fairly thin skin and you take her hazing more seriously than you should. She likes to get a rise out of people just to keep from being bored. She can get you wound up so easily that you're not enough of a challenge to her." She held up her hand to forestall the expected denial. "I see you looking like a whipped puppy when she goes after you. Then you do the next thing wrong. You act like you accept responsibility for upsetting her and you do that 'sorry' routine. You have -got- to change that habitual behavior. It just pisses her off and she gets worse. Sound familiar?"

He nodded unenthusiastically. "OK, then what -should- I do in that case?"

"There's no one answer for that. It can vary from situation to situation. I guess the first thing you should do is not react to her right away. If she's angry, take a few seconds to figure out if you actually did anything to deserve her anger. If you can't come up with something concrete, something non-trivial, don't apologize, but you can ask what's bothering her. If you did do something that really is your fault, don't just mumble 'sorry' and hang your head. Give her a real apology that makes it clear that you know what you did wrong. The apology should fit the offense. Don't over apologize. Am I making sense here?"

"Sort of. I think I understand. Anything else?"

"Have you ever heard the term 'army brat'? It kind of describes Asuka. She's been in training to pilot Eva for almost ten years. Even though allowance was made at first for her being a little kid, it was all -military- training. While I was with her in Germany a few years ago, she'd just finished the same basic training that special forces soldiers get and was into her third week of CQC."

Shinji looked blank, so Misato explained. "CQC is Close Quarters Combat. She was taught martial arts . . . Western and Eastern styles, including knife fighting. Even though she -is- a fourteen year old kid, she has been trained to be a toughened combat soldier. She really never learned to be a kid. She's had a drill sergeant yelling in her face and was not allowed to flinch or act afraid. She was trained to present a hard, impassive exterior."

"But that's not how she's acting. She yells in -my- face and orders me around.  
. . . . Oh, I think I'm getting it. She's being the drill instructor!"

Misato's grin was back in place. "Uh-huh. And that kind of makes -you- what, from her perspective?"

" . . . A trainee soldier? A recruit?"

"Yep. That's how it looks to me. So with that in mind, can you work out what you need to do?

"I'm not sure. I've never had military training like that. Just the Eva simulations."

Misato started rubbing her forehead. "Uh, look. Let's make this simpler. You should start off concentrating on the first things we talked about. Ditch the automatic 'sorry', and don't apologize unless you know you really need to, then do it right. Just work on those things for starters. It might take a little time to see results, but isn't it worth the effort?"

"I sure hope so. Thanks, Misato."

His guardian got a predatory grin on her face and said, "Now how about those girlfriends?"

Shinji got a hunted look on his face. "I think I need to get back to my homework. Maybe I'll do it in my room." So saying, he stuffed his books and notepaper back into his backpack and beat a hasty retreat to his refuge.

"You're no fun!" Misato called after him.

~-~-~


	2. Command Performance

_'Unspoken thoughts'_

"Spoken dialogue"

[A Sunday, early afternoon]

I don't own NGE. Gainax, Sadamoto, and Anno do. I'm just playing in their sandbox. Please don't sue.

~-~-~

"Knock my socks off, third."

"What?" Asuka walked into the apartment just as he was getting out his cello. Misato had left for her office earlier that morning, muttering darkly about damage reports and paperwork. Asuka had left shortly after, without bothering to say why, or when she would return.

"I mean, I want to hear what you can do when you go all-out . . . when you just do your damndest." Her attitude was challenging.

"I'm not really that good, Asuka." But because he had been planning to practice anyway, and he really didn't feel like being on the receiving end when Asuka didn't get what she wanted, he placed the sheet music on the stand, tuned up, added a bit of rosin to the bow, and worked at playing what was written.

"No. No!" She interrupted before he finished the first line. _'I've heard him playing when he thought there wasn't anyone else around. And it -was- good. He wasn't worried about mistakes, or other people's opinions. I don't know if he plays like that for himself, for someone else, for the music, for where it takes him, or what. What he was playing that other time must have meant something to him.'_

"I heard you playing another time when you probably didn't know I was listening. Unless I'm totally mistaken, and I never am, you weren't playing from some music that was sitting on the stand in front of you. It might have been there, but you weren't really reading it. Play -that- way. It sounds completely different when you're reading the music."

"What do you mean?" He knew he sometimes just played what came to him. He didn't think of it as a composition, a piece of music. . . and he didn't think it was anything special. Really, all he did was kind of let his hands do what they wanted.

'_You and that cello . . . were having a conversation . . . an -intimate- conversation. No, that's not quite it. OK . . . maybe it was like you were out in the middle of a desert or on a mountain top, or in a big cave . . . and there's no one around at all . . . not for miles. And you used the cello to say whatever you wanted, what you never say when anyone's around. You weren't worried that it would sound foolish or embarrassing. You whispered, you yelled, you raged, you cried . . . using that cello, you did that. You described a beautiful vision, you were wistful and longing. You bled out your misery.'_

The conversation was making Shinji really uncomfortable. This was Asuka. There wasn't anything about him that she liked . . . well, that she ever -said- she liked. "Why do you think I could do that if I knew you could hear?"

"Damnit! I've had a bad day in a bad week! I'm in a bad mood! I'll probably -damage- something, or someone, if I can't get some distraction pretty soon. Do you want that?!"

"No." He'd gotten samples of that damage on other occasions, and he wasn't in a hurry to get more. "But I'm not sure I can do what you want . . . at least not while you're glar- uh, looking at me like that. I'll do the best I can. But I only play that way when I feel like no one can hear. So if you could try to be quiet and be where I can't see you, it might help. I usually practice from sheet music first. It gets me focused or something. After that, maybe I can play that other way."

Asuka nodded, looking part angry, and part sad. Shinji wondered what had put her into such a state. '_Asking her would just be . . . asking for it.'_ The play on words made him grin briefly, and Asuka caught it.

"What's with that smirk?!"

Her expression told him he should tread very carefully. "Uh, I wasn't smirking. I guess I just smiled at the thought that you've never asked me to play for you before. Usually you just ignore me when I practice."

Asuka 'hmmph'ed and headed for the kitchen in search of something to drink. So taking the bow in hand he began with an easy piece for a warm-up, one he had long ago memorized. Then he touched up the tuning again and started on the piece sitting on the stand in front of him. He heard Asuka in the background as she stomped her way from the kitchen to her room, distantly aware that she had left her door open.

This was one that had always given him trouble in some passages. Here and there, the fingering was tricky; causing him to either make mistakes or slow way down so that he could get through without error. It demanded his total attention as he stubbornly tried to get it right. The last two pages were a kind of reward for hard work. He found it beautiful and inspiring. And either it was not as difficult as the first three pages, or he managed to play it better because he liked it so much.

Asuka wasn't the only one who had been having a hard time. He did use the cello to vent. All the sad, happy, intense, terrifying, and enraging experiences he had in his life found their way out of his soul through the cello. The loss of his mother and his father abandoning him had long eaten away at him. They became background for everything that had happened since he had come to Tokyo-3. The mind-numbing terror and pain he experienced in the "angel" battles, the mystery of Ayanami and the confused feelings interactions with Asuka always produced . . . they had to have an outlet somehow. He had finally made friends at school. And despite all the embarrassing behavior and teasing from Misato, for the first time in his life, he felt a sense of belonging, of acceptance, even of family.

It happened. When he got to the end of the sheet music, he just kept playing, not seeing anything but what was in his mind, not feeling the weight of his instrument or the pressure of his fingers against the strings. The sounds he heard were mostly from his memories, his playing only providing a background score to match his visions and the emotions they evoked. He was not aware of time passing. He was not aware that he smiled or cried. The tears were ignored as they slowly seeped from his eyes and ran down his face to fall from his chin. It was a miracle that his storms of rage and frustration did not break the cello's strings. He glanced at what might be his future, and his music was dark, the bow's strokes grated against the strings and moaned his fear and despair in the lowest, murkiest sounds the instrument could produce. He saw bright sapphire blue eyes and he saw blood red eyes of unknowable depth regarding him, piercing him. And he played his wistfulness and longing, his uncertainty and his confusion, his desire and his hope.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, the afternoon sun had descended to the horizon, bathing the apartment in fading red and orange light. The muscles in his back and arms ached. The fingers of his left hand were cramping, the tips raw. His eyes stung.

Slowly and carefully, for he did not trust his strength or reflexes, he put away the cello and its bow. He wondered if his mother had experienced something similar when she had owned the instrument.

Prompted by the grumblings of an empty stomach, he recalled that he had skipped lunch, figuring he would eat after he practiced. A quick, giddy chuckle escaped him at the thought and emphasized the otherwise unbroken quiet in the apartment. He lurched unsteadily to his feet and made his way slowly down the hall to the doorway of Asuka's room. Enough of the ruddy light found its way here to reveal that she had fallen asleep in her clothes, the wetness of spent tears gleaming on her cheeks and in her eyelashes.

_'Does she have things in her life that are as bad as mine?' _He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. _'If she wanted me to know, she'd tell me. If I ask, she'll just get angry.'_

His hunger became more insistent, so he turned away and headed for the kitchen. Instinctively, he sought the ingredients of what some would call "comfort food" and began to prepare dinner, enough for two in expectation that Asuka might awaken hungry and therefore, cranky.

The muted sounds of Shinji's activities only began to penetrate the redhead's slumber. The aroma of some of her favorite foods did a better job at bringing her to wakefulness. At first she couldn't remember falling asleep or what had come before. She felt spent, lethargic, empty. Empty. Hungry! She was starved! She pushed herself up into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. _'Was I crying? I guess so. My pillow's wet.'_ But it wasn't the usual dark dregs of one of her nightmares she felt; somehow it was more like how she would feel if she'd poured out her troubles to a close friend and they'd had a good cry over it all together. _'Shinji? No. Never in a million years.'_ She would never let him know those things. Still, she felt as if she had let it all out. There was relief from the pressure and the dread. Things were not any better in reality, but for some reason she felt that she had regained some of the strength she needed to face it all again.

She got up and stumbled to the bathroom, urged by a familiar feeling. Glancing in the mirror as she washed up, she thought _'What a wreck!'_

Still too wiped out to do more than wash her face and run a brush through her hair, she called it good for the moment and followed her nose to the kitchen to find out what Baka had made her to eat. _'There is something to be said for having a domesticated male around.'_

Shinji heard her come into the kitchen as he was dishing up the food onto a couple of plates. Asuka plopped down on her chair and glanced at Shinji, briefly meeting his eyes.

"Hungry?"

"Starved. You're lucky you had something prepared for me or you would have regretted it."

Her answer was vintage Asuka, and he recognized the bit of humor she hid behind a false scowl. "Then eat up. I hope you like it."

They attacked their plates with quiet enthusiasm, and little was said as the food disappeared. All the while, one or the other would glance up at the person across from them, and would quickly look back down at the food if they were caught. As hunger was dealt with, some of the higher mental functions gradually came back in play.

"Thank you, Baka."

Shinji's chopsticks froze part way to his mouth and he looked up at her again, only to see the top of her head and the bit of her face not shadowed by the golden-red hair hanging in front of her eyes.

"Uh, you're welcome, Asuka." The chopsticks finished their journey and he contemplated the possible meanings of her brief utterance as he absent mindedly chewed and swallowed.

"The food is OK, too."

He looked up again and found her looking intently at him this time, her eyes expressing something that he couldn't quite make out.

"You look like hell."

He almost answered with what was in his mind at the moment. _'And you are so beautiful it takes my breath away.'_ It was what he always thought when he saw her face. True, her eyes were still a bit red, and the side of her face still held marks from being pressed into a wrinkled pillow, but none of that really made her less beautiful in his eyes. Instead, he just nodded his acknowledgement of her comment.


End file.
